If all goes according to plan, D-FW will welcome another church on Nov. 17. In a land of 10,000 congregations, the news shouldn’t be more than a sparrow’s burp. But this one will do the impossible: unite fundamentalist Christians and hard-core atheists.

When I was 9, my father preached a sermon from the pulpit of our church titled “The Only One Who Could, Did.” It was a Sunday evening service, which always felt a little off-brand to me. A builder’s grade ceremony stripped of flattering curlicues. To a boy with a wilderness for a mind, these evening services in the “big church” led to epic battles with boredom. Church, if you’re not into it, is stained glass divorced from sunlight.

As I listened to my father’s church voice, clear and as honeyed as his hair, my attention often drifted, rejoining only when the rhythms changed. But this night was different. His words felt like river stones stacking up on my chest, creating a nervous, new pressure. I was caught by surprise. After the sermon, with the congregation deep in the dirge of Just as I Am, my dad stood at the bottom of the steps waiting for anyone wanting to be saved or recommitted to the Lord. With bulging heart, I turned to my friend Chip and said, “I’m going down there.”

“Where?”

“There,” I nodded.

He looked at me like he was watching a leopard scrubbing his spots.

“Are you kidding?” he said.

As long as you live, you’ll never see a picture of pride like the one that hung on my father’s face when his cutup of a boy disappeared into his arms and cried like a newborn.

That’s the night I was saved.

This new church coming to Dallas doesn’t aim to save souls for the Lord. In fact, it’s called the Atheist Church — a name that makes media outlets shudder in joy and fundamentalists and hard- core atheists shudder in unison. They are, after all, two sides joined by hatred of middle ground.

Dallas has hosted Unitarian, Buddhist and Freethought churches for years. But the phrase Atheist Church has a wildfire quality that singes emotions quickly and makes compelling copy. The name is provocative, but the idea is not.

Alain de Botton is at the forefront of this neo-atheism movement. De Botton is a writer and self-described “gentle atheist” who, unlike the Dawkins-Hitchens-Harris brand, has nice things to say about churches and religion. He sees the human itches that they can scratch. His book Religion for Atheists argues that atheists should take a more balanced and accurate view of religion.

De Botton says that atheism should steal a few of religion’s more practical and effective ways of improving life. Specifically, community, ritual and commitment to others.

If the aim of this Atheist Church is to gather, irritate and trade in cathartic religious snark, I’m out. But if the idea is promoting charity and clarity while tightening the cords of community and exploring wonder, then I like what they’re peddling. And I don’t mind them borrowing holidays, jargon and form from Christianity. The same way I don’t mind that Christianity borrowed from paganism. Whatever gently gets people to the trough of compassion, love and wholeness.

The criticisms I’ve read of de Botton’s ideas seem like peevish sniping or the backseat bickering of siblings on a road trip.

It’s been done before, dude. The French 200 years ago. Get over it. (We aren’t allowed to do old things again.)

Umm, it’s called Unitarian Universalism.And it’s failed. (If things have similarities, all but one of them needs to go away.)

Gathering around a lack of belief makes no sense. Why don’t they just join a knitting club? (Because they don’t knit, and they want to gather around a commonality.)

This defeats one of the main benefits of being atheist: skipping church. (Some people like the ritual of church but dislike dogma.)

We have a hundred flavors of Christianity in the D-FW area. Another taste of palpable atheism, this one courtesy of the Sunday Assembly movement, won’t kill us.

People gather for a reason. Beasts of the field don’t worry about spiritual stuff. They don’t seek or puzzle over meaning, community, altruism, purpose or love. We’re different. We’re born into fear and longing. Ritual and fellowship help fill these voids. Neo-atheists are allowed these tools too.

I like seekers. They don’t threaten me. In fact, I hope they find what they seek, even if it’s the comfort of feeling less alone in a godless world and religious culture. Let them sit in the pews on Sunday nights. Unexpected things happen.

Gordon Keith is a Dallas writer and broadcaster and may be contacted at gordon@gordonkeith.com.